


Just Doing What Needs To Be Done

by doverit



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Panic Attacks, Rickyl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 06:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2682326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doverit/pseuds/doverit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot exploring the strong-bond between Daryl Dixon and Rick Grimes. Set after episode 5.07, "Crossed".<br/>Y'all see those looks Rickyl was shooting each other on the streets of Atlanta during the stand-off with the Grady Memorial Hospital police? Whew! Who needs words when you can just level a look at someone and they know just what you need? </p><p>Here is some hurt/comfort smut exploring that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Doing What Needs To Be Done

Daryl took a long drag off his cigarette, as he scanned the night's horizon for any danger. All was eerily quiet. Nothing but an occasional walker roaming the streets near their Atlanta hideout. After today, he wasn't surprised. Them pricks at the hospital would be lickin' their wounds and regrouping, just like they were.

Tomorrow, he thought, tapping his fingers nervously against his thigh. Tomorrow they'd get Carol and Beth back.

Finding them safe was all he could think of. He could picture it, crystal-clear in his mind, like a memory of something that had already happened. Both women had come to mean a lot to him, and they were so damn close to getting them back.

He could see the hospital from his watch post up on the second floor of their hideout. The idea of them maybe hurt and trapped in that building, was more than he could stomach. He needed them safely back with the group. The sooner the better.

There had been fuck-ups. Sasha had been overtaken and hurt, and one hostage had gotten away. They knew he would go scurrying back to the hospital to warn this Dawn bitch that they were coming. Their initial plan had to be revamped before it even got started. And now they were down two of their people. Tyreese would need to stay behind to watch over Sasha. She sure-as-shit was in no shape for what was about to go down. Yet even with all that stacked against them, Daryl still felt good about tomorrow's rescue.

The reason he was feeling confident was simple. Rick had a plan. He always had a plan. Even knowing those hospital pricks would be warned they were coming, Rick had a plan. It was a brutal one. The kind of plan Daryl had originally hoped to avoid in this situation. But since circumstances had changed again, he knew brutal was now the only hope of getting Beth and Carol back alive.

"We kill em all," Rick had coldly instructed when they found Sasha unconscious on the ground.

By all rights, panic should have shook their group right then, but it didn't because of Rick. The group automatically looked to him for guidance. They trusted him. He made the tough choices they couldn't. He was strong and just. The group would follow his lead as they always did and he wouldn't steer them wrong.

Daryl looked over at Rick, curled up asleep on the concrete floor a few feet away from where he was taking watch. He had observed the capable man closely these last weeks. Besides being the groups leader, their rock, Rick was like a brother to him. They were so in-tune with one another now that it was no surprise he was the first to notice the cracks in their leader, hidden just below the surface.

Rick started having debilitating panic attacks. Daryl worried for his friend of course, but it was more than that. He knew that if Rick was struggling to cope, the group would flounder as well. So, he helped him keep his attacks in check when they hit. So far they'd been lucky to catch them early and had been able to dealt with it themselves, keeping it hidden from the group. No sense worrying everyone. They needed their leader strong in order to keep that delicate balance that helped to keep their group alive.

Daryl knew Rick was struggling. They all were, of course, but Rick wasn't allowed too. Not now. Not when the group needed him so badly to be strong. So, Daryl stepped up, did what was needed to help. Didn't matter if it was ugly or unpleasant, if Rick needed it, he did it. Daryl knew his friend would overcome these attacks eventually. He was just in a rough patch is all. Not surprising with the weight of the fucked-up world on his shoulders. Daryl would help him through.

The archer knew Rick relied on him absolutely. He trusted him with his own life and the lives of his family. He did not take those trusts lightly. The end result of this iron-trust being a bond unlike anything either man had ever experienced. All Rick needed to do was look him in the eye. No words were necessary. The archer knew what needed to be done.

Daryl could see this hospital rescue happening, crystal-clear in his mind, but only with Rick leading the way. Without him, it would most certainly fail.

Daryl was startled from his thoughts when the leader mumbled incoherently in his sleep, tossing and turning with his face scrunched-up as if in pain. Daryl took the last drag off his cigarette and just watched him for a moment, letting the smoke swirl deep in his lungs. He didn't want to wake him yet if he didn't have to. He hadn't slept near long enough. He frowned as he watched his friend continue to thrash and moan.

Daryl was just about to shake him awake when he heard him cry out. Registering that this was the start of one of the leader's now familiar panic attacks, he knelt down beside him and placed his hand on Rick's shoulder, squeezing lightly and waiting to see if maybe he would settle on his own. The leader whimpered and thrashed again, but his movements seemed more deliberate this time, less frenzied.

Daryl looked around. The others were downstairs, asleep. Tyrese was keeping watch on the ground-floor, out back. They were totally alone, and God willing, would be for awhile. Daryl didn't want anyone else to see Rick when he was like this. He didn't want the group to see him weak.

Suddenly, the leader's blue-eyes snapped open and blearily focused on him. Registering it was Daryl with him, he reached out blindly, his hands fumbling in his haste. He grabbed a hold of the archer and pulled on his arm forcefully until he too was laying down, facing him, pressed flush against him on the concrete floor.

Rick looked crazed. The panic was all through him now, making him whimper andshake. His breath was coming out in jagged little puffs, ghosting hot across Daryl's cheek. His heart was thundering in his chest. He didn't speak. He didn't have too. Daryl could look at him and just know what he wanted, what he needed.

Reaching down Daryl cupped his hand over the crotch of Rick's jeans, never breaking eye contact with the leader. Rick was already hard. Daryl knew it was from the adrenaline rush of the panic attack and not true arousal, but the end result would be the same. The archer rubbed his palm over his friend's bulge giving him some of the friction that he knew was needed.

Rick closed his eyes and moaned at his touch, his body still quivering uncontrollably. "Please," he whispered hoarsely, thrusting desperately against the archer's hand.

Daryl gently shushed his friend, as he increased the friction. "I've got you."

Rick nodded, and gripped his friend harder, as his body continued to tremble in distress. Daryl could feel the heat rolling off Rick in waves. Despite the slight chill in the night air, the leader was sweating profusely, beads of moisture quivering on his forehead and upper lip.

They had been in this situation before. Rick's panic attacks following an almost familiar pattern now. After the first few terrifying episodes, where Rick uncontrollably vomited while he shook in panic, leaving him wrecked for hours after, Daryl had found ways to soothe the man who meant so much to him.

Looking around he could just see the beginning's of sunrise over the horizon. He knew the group would be starting to stir. He'd have to be quick. There wasn't much time.

Reaching both hands down between them he quickly unbuckled the leader's pants and freed his hard member. Rick whimpered, his eyes wild, as his friend gripped him, his cock pulsing in need at the contact.

Shaking uncontrollably, Rick grit out through chattering teeth, "Don't...can't..."

Daryl knew his friend despised feeling so weak and out of control like this, but together they would ride it out. He would see him safely through.

Daryl met his gaze and shushed him gently while he stroked him steady from root to tip. He gathered the moisture from the head of his cock as he stroked over it to lubricate his motions. Rick moaned at his touch, his shaking subsiding a bit as his body automatically started shifting gears, unconsciously reacting to the pleasure from Daryl's touch. In effect, forcing his rigid body to relax, and reverse the all-consuming panic controlling his mind and body.

The first time it happened, they were alone on a run. Daryl nearly panicked himself seeing his friend like that. He pushed Rick's shaking, sweaty body into the backseat of their car. For a few terrifying moments Daryl was convinced Rick was dying and here he was at a total loss on what to do for him. The normally skittish archer hugged Rick tight to his body, anything to try and still his relentless shaking. Rick's cock had been hard then too, but that was the least of their worries as he uncontrollably shook and bucked and got sick in that backseat. When it was over, Rick was completely exhausted. Daryl did his best to clean him up. That was when he noticed the tell-tale wet spot spreading darkly over the front of his jeans. Looking down at that spot, Rick met his eyes and whispered, "just happened. I-I couldn't stop it."

"S'ok, man. Seemed to help. You calmed down after," Daryl observed, more concerned with how orgasming had stopped his panic rather than any embarrassment his friend might be feeling.

"Mmm," Rick mumbled exhausted, too spent to argue.

They never spoke of it, both secretly hoping the panic attack had been a fluke. When it happened again, Daryl took care of it. No words were needed. Was nothing to discuss when it came down to it. Rick needed him, and as always Daryl did what needed to be done.

Hell, if his friend could ask him to slit a strangers throat, and he didn't so much as flinch, was kinda hard to find fault with this now wasn't it? No matter how strange it seemed to both men, you couldn't argue with results. It helped Rick, and that's all that mattered.

Rick's leaned into him, his hot breath scorching across his neck in time with the jerking motions from the archer's hand.

Groaning, Rick's hips began to press into Daryl seeking more friction. The archer pulled his hand off of him and spit into it twice. He wrapped his slick hand back over Rick's cock, curving his palm over the head, allowing Rick to fuck into the tight space.

"That's it, that's it," Daryl whispered as Rick's thrusts sped up and became more erratic. He could tell by his motions and the tightness of his body that his friend was close to coming.

Reaching down with his other hand Daryl gently cupped his balls, his fingers carefully rolling over the delicate orbs, making Rick shudder and moan as he continued to fuck faster and harder into his friend's hand.

"Come on, you need this, brother. Don't fight it." Daryl encouraged soothingly, pressing closer against his friend as his hands continued to move over him, bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

Daryl stroked him harder, faster. Suddenly, Rick's shaking ceased and he tensed up, crying out, he came hard, his hips thrusting up as his cock spasmed in Daryl's hand pulsing streams of warm, wet come against his linked fingers.

Collapsing back against the concrete, Rick could feel the tension leaving his body as little aftershocks from his orgasm pulsed through him. Daryl watched him as he cleaned off his wet hand with his rag.

"Least you didn't get sick this time," Daryl noted as he watched Rick fumble to buckle his belt.

"Yeah," he panted, hand resting on his sweaty forehead. "I feel better…than the other times."

"You're getting better. Won't be long before it'll stop altogether." Daryl assured him.

Rick nodded, and attempted to stand, but a wave of dizziness hit him and he stumbled back to the floor.

"Didn't say you were better yet. Just said you're gettin' there." Daryl teased him with a smirk on his face.

"Yeah," Rick agreed, barking out a laugh. "I guess I just need a minute."

"Take your time. We're not ready to move yet anyway. I'll go check on Ty and Sasha," Daryl offered shouldering his crossbow.

"Yeah, good." Rick grunted.

Daryl nodded and started down to Tyrese's watch post to check on the rest of their group.

"Daryl?" Rick called to him.

Daryl turned back to look at him.

"Thank you." Rick said quietly, his blue-eyes watching him.

Daryl nodded once, turned back, and headed out.


End file.
